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Dyeing

It is that time of year again. I got a new shipment of wool and have been having a marvelous time dyeing it. Like the excitement of seeing spring flowers pop up after a long, cold winter, dyeing produces a riot of color.

Over the course of a few days it morphs from a white fluffy mound

to a riot of warm colors in the sunshine

and then to a parade of blues.

The weather must be watched. And when the sky looks like this

you need to run outside like a mad woman to collect all that freshly dyed wool to save it.

You heap it on the table.

Then you spend hours balling it up to keep in storage containers:

And you feel happy because you have worked hard, even though your job feels like playing. You have touched soft wool, and smelled the pungent vinegar mordant, tried to analyze each color. One is the exact color of a lupine leaf. One is the exact color of seaweed. And two blended will make a beautiful sky, with a few others to highlight clouds. One will be the base color for water. One color might just be too beautiful and will be kept out for spinning. Each color holds so much possibility and cheerful images of all the cool things you can create run through your head.